Home Guard

Chapter 5

Boys in blue

Sergeant Leslie knew he was outnumbered. Badly. The labourers had circled him like a pack of feral wolves. They were after blood. They could smell it. This cop was going to go down.

Les didn’t take s**t from anybody, let alone some blow-ins from out of town. He was the only cop for miles and he had to keep order in a tough mining town. He hated paperwork, and he was popular with the locals for that reason. Sometimes the kids just needed a slap or two behind the police station before being taken home to their parents. It was all about good cop… bad cop.

Growing up as a country footy player, Les had always thought the New Australians were big girls. Now he was about to prove it. Built like a tank, and vicious when necessary, he had once stopped a union riot at the plant by tossing the ringleader onto a picket fence. You’re a fuckin psycho copper, the rest of the stirrers had yelled at him. But they had moved on all the same.

This time was different. These dickheads had been drinking. And they were daigos. Les hated bloody daigos. They usually carried knives. His mate George the publican usually carried a baseball bat too but tonight he was away and one of the barmaids had put a call in. She was sick of having her arse pinched and she was getting nervous about being on her own with a group of horny young men.

Evening gentlemen, he said taking in the room with a well-trained eye as he walked into the front bar. How are ya Sheila, everything alright?

A pretty but hassled face said it all with one look. He smiled back confidently at her. I’ll sort it out don’t worry. Les looked around at the motley crew with an almost bored expression. He was getting too old for this s**t. Here they were. The new breed. No morals, no respect for authority and a sense of entitlement. The boys were in full swing and getting cocky.

Hey copper. An arrogant Romeo sidled up next to him. You come to check out the barmaid's t**s too?

Be a good lad and tone it down mate. You’ve had enough I reckon.

Reckon there’s more of us than you mate, what you gunna do? The young fella replied looking across at his mates for approval.

This! With one action Les grabbed the collar and belt of the little s**t and hoisted him straight through the door.

Enjoy your flight! He grinned. The smartarse was on the footpath outside the pub in seconds. Anyone else want to have a crack? A mass of slick back hair, gold chains and overalls rushed out with a common purpose. Take that copper down. The pack started to circle him, their arrogant faces merging into one. One face. With one eyebrow.

That made him smile. The cynical, weathered sergeant gathered his thoughts. This was just a mind game. And they were his specialty. Les reached into his top pocket and pulled out a cigarette case. By habit he tapped one on the lid and then flicked open his Zippo. He’d seen his fair share of s**t over the years. He deliberately lit up the fag and slowly eyed each prick in front of him. All d**k and no brains between them. They were just waiting for someone to make the first move. Here we go, he muttered to himself. Show time.

Ok you lot, drawled Les in a casual two pack a day rasp, breaking the silence

You outnumber me 10 to 1. And I can’t win. The labourers grinned gold teeth at each other with the taste of victory near,

But.. The Sergeant paused for effect.

I promise you little girls that I WILL get two of you. It was not a V for victory sign his fingers indicated

And the two I get… are f****d! Do I need to spell it out for you? Les straightened up to his full height starting to roll up his sleeves.

They won’t get up again.

The big cop dragged back on his cigarette one last time then slowly and deliberately stubbed it out with a large, spit polished boot.

Now who’s it going to be?

Eyes dart around the circle but no one moves. Then a barrage of abuse in halting English flies his way.

You filthy copper, the little upstart from the footpath yells

You’re going down pig, snarls another mouthy weed producing a knife as suspected

Les holds his ground. Inside his uniform he is starting to sweat. It’s now a waiting game and he who moves first loses. Waiting. Waiting. The atmosphere gradually starts to cool. It seems no one wants to be the victim. They start to look awkward and downcast.

Didn’t think so. Les sneers at the cowardice. Now piss off before I arrest you all for threatening an officer.

Boys playing men, he says to his wife later that night. That’s what they were. Dangerous boys. Like the barbers cat, all piss and wind. Old enough to drink, and maybe just wise enough to walk away today.

You could have been killed, his dutiful wife says up to her elbows in the kitchen sink

Nah… Les dismisses her wiping the beer froth from his lip. I’m the one with the gun remember..

His wife just washes the dishes, she knows what comes out of his mouth is more damaging than any gun.